Chapter Seventy-Six #2
Other men got up and began to dance, no longer singly, and in no particular order. Women came into the circle, dancing. Candice was shocked again. Some were fully dressed, but others wore nothing but tiny loincloths. They danced unashamedly.
One of the near-naked women gravitated toward the dais, and Candice watched fixedly—with growing anger.
The woman was slender, her body perfect.
Long black hair fell loosely to her hips.
Her breasts were full but young and firm.
Dark nipples were taut. She was very graceful and very sensuous, and she had the attention of half the men on the dais, then all of them. She moved directly in front of Jack.
He watched her dance with full attention.
Candice wanted to slap the half smile off his face.
The woman swayed closer to him, her message unmistakable.
For what had to be five long minutes she undulated in front of him, for him, and he never once took his eyes off her.
Then she beckoned with her hand, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.
The men on the dais started laughing, and one of them pummeled Jack on the back. They gestured after the girl, encouraging him. He rose, amid hoots, and started after her. Candice was frozen with disbelief. He disappeared in her wake into the crowd.
Her heart was pounding furiously. She picked up a stone and stood.
Should she bash her head in, or his? She strode grimly, purposefully, down the knoll.
How in hell was she ever going to find them?
They had probably gone into the woods. She would never find them.
She vowed to kill Jack when she next saw him—and hoped that would be very soon.
Away from the firelight it was dark. She skirted the woods instead of going through-them. She walked right into a pair of powerful arms, and started to twist free. He laughed.
“Looking for me?”
“You bastard!”
He pulled her against him and silenced her with a kiss. His lips were hard and demanding. She could feel his arousal. She was furious. “Stop it, you bastard! Just stop!”
“You look beautiful,” he breathed, lifting her easily into his arms. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all day.” He began walking into the woods.
“What about your little squaw?” Candice hissed, but her body was melting rapidly.
“Who?”
“Don’t ‘who’ me!”
He chuckled. “You sound like a jealous witch. Inlgashi shijii. Witch of my heart!”
“You’re not funny,” she cried, but he dropped to his knees and kissed her again. Candice wrenched away. “Who is she?”
He slid his hand up her arm, his eyes smoking. His tone was husky. “Nobody. Trust me. Come here, shijii, kiss me … greet me properly.”
She pushed herself out of his arms. “Greet you properly? You couldn’t even say hello when—”
He caught her with a chuckle and kissed her again. “I’m saying hello now.” He urged her gently backward, until she was lying on her back. The ground was damp.
“Jack …” she started.
He smiled and slipped his hand beneath her petticoats, instantly silencing her.
She closed her eyes and was lost to waves of dizzying pleasure.
And when his mouth followed the path of his hand, and his tongue started seeking her sweetest, slickest recesses, she clutched at his hair and forgave all.
A tidal wave of pleasure soared over her, again and again.
Then he took her and claimed her as a man claims a woman, fiercely, intently, purposefully. That night his harsh cries mingled with hers, unheard beneath the din of revelry.
“Who is she, Jack?”
He smiled. “Her name is Gaage and she’s a widow. Have no fear. I have no intention of making any more trouble for myself, I have enough as it is.”
“You certainly enjoyed her dancing,” Candice said jealously.
He stroked her hair. “I was imagining my wife dancing naked in front of me, dear heart.” He chuckled.
“You liar.”
“I was also imagining the very delicious things I intended to do to you tonight—and I assume you’re satisfied?”
She had to smile. “Just stay away from her,” she told him.
“I give you my word,” he said, biting off laughter. She was jealous, and while he meant every word he said, he was thrilled that she should be so green. A jealous woman was a woman who cared.
“What happened, Jack?” She peered up at him.
He stiffened. “I don’t want to discuss that now. Let’s make love again.” He began unbuttoning her camisole.
“You rode on the Santa Cruz Valley, Candice persisted. She had to know. His hand stopped, then slid negligently into her bodice, cupping a breast. “I want to know what happened. Did you attack Tucson?”
He withdrew his hand and sat up abruptly.
“You have great timing,” he said harshly.
Silver eyes were bitterly angry. “Do you really want to know all the ugly details?” He stood, reaching for his loincloth.
“All right. Reinhart’s place is gutted. He won’t be able to rebuild.
Henderson’s is gutted also. At least ten men died yesterday.
Four were Apache. Is there anything else you want to know? ”
She sat, clutching the ends of her camisole together. “Yes, Is Judge Reinhart all right?”
He stared, his mouth tightening. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, God,” she said.
“Do you still fancy yourself in love with him?” he snarled.
“Oh, grow up! Judge is a good man! My neighbor!”
“You were practically engaged to him, remember? You seemed to be in love with him!” His eyes were flashing shards of ice.
“I can’t believe you could attack a man like Judge,” Candice said. “How could you?”
He stared, furious. “Don’t you dare condemn me—or even judge me.” He strode away. But even as he did so, he knew his anger wasn’t directed at her, but at himself, and the whole damn war.